


This Is the Way the World Ends

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anaheim Ducks, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Dallas Stars, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, M/M, Moving On, POV Alternating, Past Break-Up(s), Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If he concentrates hard enough, keeps his eyes closed, Jason can pretend that the hands on his body belong to Petr.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is the Way the World Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harleymae](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=harleymae).



> Original fic notes: This one turned out very awkward, with the whole tense thing, and the way I describe things.  
> ___
> 
> This is heavily edited from its original form on egroups. Yes, it is that old!!!
> 
> I used to be really big on the Devils' A-Line and angsted when Lamoriello (I think he was the GM at the time) traded Sykora to Anaheim. Then Arnott went to Dallas. And then President's Trophy-winning Dallas and underdog Anaheim met in the 2003 Stanley Cup Playoffs.
> 
> According to my original notes, I listened to a lot of classical/opera and Jack off Jill while writing this. Go fig.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

> This is the way the world ends  
>  Not with a bang but a whimper.  
>  — "The Hollow Men," T.S. Eliot

If he concentrates hard enough, keeps his eyes closed, Jason can pretend that the hands on his body belong to Petr.

The hands move down the length of Jason's back, dangerously close to the towel wrapped around his waist.

Jason keeps his face pressed into his pillow, letting out a low groan as the fingers dig into the tightly knotted muscles of his back.

"You're very tense," Dina observes, squeezing a couple drops of lotion onto the palm of her hand.

"I know that," he grumbles, wincing as she begins to rub the cold lotion into his shoulder blades. He doesn't look at her, he can't look at her.

Dina sighs, sensing the growing distance between them. "I'm only trying to help you," she says, huffing.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Dina," Jason replies, though he knows it doesn’t sound like he means it. "I've got a lot on my mind, you know? With the series and all."

She murmurs in agreement, kneading his muscles, working him into putty in her hands. "You're going to come back and win the series," she states, firmly.

Jason sighs, resting his chin on his oiled shoulder.

*

Petr Sykora stares at the reflection in the mirror, and doesn't recognize himself.

"Petr, you okay?" Paul Kariya, his captain, steps up behind him, reaching for his tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush.

Petr steps aside to allow Paul more room. "I'm all right." 

"You don't sound all right," Paul says, wrapping his arms around Petr's waist and resting his chin on his bare shoulder. Paul laughs. "You need a tan."

Petr turns in Paul’s arms, nosing behind his ear. "I'll be fine, Paul. I'm sure it's nothing."

Paul pulls back to squeeze some toothpaste onto his brush and stuff it into his mouth. "Mm mm oo."

"What?" Petr asks, shooting Paul and odd look.

Paul spits his toothpaste into the sink basin and grins, laughing. "I love you."

Petr smiles, weakly, and looks back at the hollow man in the mirror. "I..." 

He trails off and turns from Paul, leaving the claustrophobic bathroom.

*

Jason is the first one in the Dallas lockerroom prior to game five against the Ducks, eager to get dressed and get on the ice.

When he emerges from the lockerroom, Petr is there.

*

Petr arrives a little early, for the afternoon skate.

He sees Jason skating around on the ice surface, flipping a puck on the blade of his stick.

He takes a puck and practices his puckhandling skills; he doesn't think Jason's noticed him yet. And if he did, he has given no indication that he cares.

Petr shoots the puck on the open net, and Jason looks at him for the first time.

No one speaks.

Petr realizes he must have made some mistake, and quickly mumbles an apology. "I’m sorry, Jason."

Jason still doesn't say anything. He stares at Petr, blankly, and Petr doesn't remember the last time he saw Jason look that...lost.

"Jason?" Petr begins again, skating a little closer to him.

Finally, Jason finds his voice. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised, that's all," he mutters, ducking his head. "So..."

"So... Haven't seen you in a long time," Petr says, talking more to the sheet of ice than to Jsason. "Were you...you know, avoiding me?"

"Oh. I—I wasn't," Jason says, after a brief pause.

Petr furrows his brow. Jason seems so lost and broken to him. He never remembered seeing Jason like this before, during the entire time they were together in New Jersey. Back then, Jason was cocky and confident, so sure of himself. He never showed weakness, never showed fear.

This new Jason Arnott is scaring Petr.

*

This new Jason Arnott is scaring Jason.

Petr is still staring at him, and Jason suddenly feels so fucking self-conscious. The way Petr's looking at him is making his knees weak, making his stomach do flips.

'Should have kept my fucking mouth shut,' he thinks, as Petr struggles to find something to say. 'He can't even bring himself to talk to me...'

Petr clears his throat several times, and finally says, "I missed you."

Jason’s not sure he heard him right. "What?"

"I missed you," he repeats. "You never called me after the trade. I was... It really hurt."

Jason feels like his heart has turned to a rock in his chest, and dropped to his knees. "Petr, I was so...fucking confused when I found out about the trade... I just thought it would be for the best to just start over."

"You did not think to ask me what I thought about that?" Petr asks, softly.

Jason sighs. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking right. I'm sorry."

Petr nods, slowly. "I know you are. You have it written all over you," he whispers, moving in closer to Jason. "Everything about you is sorry."

Jason lets his shoulders slump, and he leans forward, on his hockey stick. "You don't suppose there could be a chance we might...you know...rekindle something?" he asks, with such hope in his voice and a light in his eyes, that Petr almost, almost forgets he's been sharing his bed with his captain since October.

"Jason... I moved on." Petr cannot bring himself to look at Jason; the pain in his eyes would be too much. 

Petr doesn’t need to. He can feel it radiating from Jason, crashing into him in waves. He almost staggers back from the weight of Jason's pain.

"I...I..." Now it’s Jason’s turn to be stunned speechless.

"I'm sorry," they both say, at the same time.

Petr smiles and Jason does too, after a brief pause.

Paul steps onto the ice and Petr's eyes light up, and Jason realizes just who Petr's moved on with.

"I'll see you," Jason says, softly. "Good luck, Petr."

"And good luck to you too," Petr whispers back.

Jason turns and heads for the Stars' visitors lockerroom, and Paul skates a circle around Petr.

"What was that all about?" Paul asks.

"Oh, we were laughing about something that happened when we were teammates in Jersey," Petr lies easily, far too easily. 

Petr knows he should feel bad about it, lying to Paul, but there are some things he can’t share just yet. There are some things he needs to keep for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
